Family Functions
by hawkstout
Summary: Dick has one function. To protect Bruce Wayne's children, but the Red Hood has been breaking into Wayne Tech facilities, and putting a target on the Wayne family's backs. Gen, Tim & Dick, Jason & Dick.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Dick is a robot

* * *

The ROBIN project was… his own personal project. Bruce's company was the largest robot manufacturer in America. His Robots were second to none in his opinion. Bots that were maids and butlers, servers, secretaries. He had designed them for their purpose and to serve that purpose. He made sure there were safeguards so that his bots were protected and not used for… nefarious things.

They were automatons.

But Richard Grayson was different from the rest of them.

First because he had a name, a human name, something Bruce usually didn't allow for his other creations. Second, Richard's tasks would be much more complicated than his other all-purpose bots.

Little Jason watched as Bruce turned the screws in Richard's soon to be left arm.

"What's he for?" Jason asked.

Bruce reached over and ruffled Jason's hair. "He's going to look after you when I can't."

Jason frowned deeply, "But Robots are boring!" the boy protested, "They're always: yessir, nossir, three bags full sir? … even Alfred is like that."

"He's going to be different," Bruce said patiently. There were no rules of robotics. Nothing but the warnings of fiction. Give a robot too much sentience, and bad things will happen. Give a robot a heart, and it will only end in tragedy.

Bruce didn't believe that, and if he couldn't be there to watch Jason he wanted something—someone he could trust.

* * *

"Timmy, please go to sleep."

Tim stared at the computer screen. The code still wasn't making sense.

"Humans your age need eight hours to function. You'll damage your circuits if you don't rest."

Tim smiled softly. Dick was leaning over him a small worried look on his face.

The robot had been at his side since he was ten, Bruce Wayne's second adopted child. Tim had fallen in love with Dick right there and then. The craftsmanship was superb, almost human—but that wasn't what won Tim over. Dick was kind.

And at first Tim told himself Dick was programed to be kind to them, but Bruce told him that Dick's only programing imperative was to protect Bruce Wayne's children. Everything else the robot had developed on his own.

Protection didn't mean kindness. Dick could have developed into an unfeeling automaton that served them food and told them to go to bed. He wasn't though. He was kind and gentle and sung them lullabies even when they were way too old for it.

Tim's smile widened. He was doing it right now, a gentle humming trying to entice Tim to bed.

"I'm busy, Dick. I need to finish this code."

Dick made a sighing sound, his hums tapering off. He wrapped his arms around Tim's shoulders and pressed a depressed kiss to his head.

"You work too hard," It was almost a whine, but not really because of the truth of it. Tim did work too hard, but that's how he liked it.

From the very start Dick seemed to zero in on Tim as someone that needed protection and care. Tim was small and fragile for his age, with a tendency to push himself too hard and put himself into situations a normal ten-year-old would probably avoid. Tim sought out information and knowledge. He usually did things the hard way. Dick would be beside him holding his hand.

_"Timmy, please be more careful. I'll short out if you keep scaring me like that, you're as bad as Jay!" _

Jason Todd. Dick was made when Jason was six-years-old. He was the first person Bruce had told Dick to protect. Tim assumed Dick developed in reaction to Jason.

Jason needed hugs, warmth, and happiness. That was how Dick protected Jason Todd.

But that wasn't enough.

Jason ran away at sixteen.

Tim didn't know the whole story. Not Jason's side of it. He didn't even really have Bruce's side. Just Dick's.

The Robot was bereaved at Jason's disappearance. "He wouldn't let me follow him," Dick would get emotional when he talked about Jason's leaving. "And he said he would be safer if I stayed. Do you think he was safer, Tim?"

Jason Todd was declared dead when a teen's beaten charred body was discovered in a warehouse and there was enough DNA to reasonably assume it was him. No one had the heart to tell Dick it seemed.

Tim sometimes wondered if his fostering by Bruce was partly for the robot's sanity. There was a year between Jason Todd's disappearance and Tim coming into their lives. Between that time the only thing Dick had to look after was Ace, a large German Shepard.

Apparently Ace and Dick were similar. Both protectors of Jason, both heartbroken at his absence.

Tim gave them a purpose again.

"You're cold too," Dick said insistently. He moved away for a moment and then came back wrapping a blanket around him.

"You don't need to fuss," Tim chided, but Dick would have none of it.

"You're only seventeen Timothy Drake-Wayne. You should not develop bad programing like Bruce has. Your code will be here tomorrow for you to input your time and energy."

"But my ideas will be gone," Tim argued.

Dick groaned comically and sunk down beside Tim's computer chair. He leaned his head against Tim's leg. "You're awful." Dick declared. "You'll short-circuit me from worry."

Tim patted his head apologetically. Dick leaned his head back. He wouldn't move from his position at Tim's side until Tim packed it in for the night. Tim went back to his typing.

"Mean, mean, mean," Dick murmured softly at the stroke of every extra hour Tim spent awake.

At six in the morning Tim yawned one too many times. Dick was up in a moment and scooped him into his arms.

"Dick!" He weakly protested. Dick was humming lullabies again.

"I saved your work, don't worry," Dick said as he carried Tim out of the lab, through the manor halls and towards his bed.

"I can walk, I'm not a little kid anymore," Tim grumbled, but didn't expect for a second that Dick would put him down—and he actually didn't want Dick to put him down. He enjoyed the safe feeling of Dick's strong arms, and the obvious gentle care he took in placing Tim on his bed. Tim smiled up.

"Thanks for worrying about me, Dick."

Dick beamed. He bent down and kissed Tim on the cheek. "I love you, Timmy. Please recharge yourself sufficiently."

Maybe he was at an age that he should stop indulging the robot's need to mother him, but it made Dick so happy—and it made Tim happy too.

"Good night, Dick. Sweet dreams."

There was no doubt in his mind that Dick had developed the capacity to love.

* * *

"Pancakes," Dick said cheerfully to Cass as Tim poked his head in the kitchen five hours later. Dick briefly frowned at him. Apparently five hours wasn't a sufficient amount of time for Tim to charge his batteries. Tim shrugged and took his place at the table with the rest of his 'siblings.'

Cassandra was his age and very rarely at home. She was independent, adopted by Bruce when she was fifteen. It was common for her to be in and out of the manor now that she was eighteen. She was so very much apart of their family, but the type that could take care of herself. Dick didn't coddle her openly as much as he did Tim and the others, but with Cass it would be little things which showed how much the robot adored her. Extra pancakes on her stack, insisting on combing her hair, telling her goofy stories that she probably never got to hear as a kid, always having a smile for her, and generally letting her do as she pleased.

_"Cass is mature and I can trust her to care of herself!" _Dick would tell him when Tim pointed out clear favouritism.

At the table also was Stephanie. She was actually a friend of Cass and Tim's, not Bruce's daughter, but Dick seemed to include her as one of Bruce Wayne's children. She worked with Bruce, was one of his students in the mechanics of robotics, a 'Robin' as they were known as. She fought hard for a position at Bruce's side and became fast friends with everyone. Dick would let her stare at his circuits and gears for hours, showing his mechanisms just for her as she talked to him excitedly about how advanced his design was for the time he was built.

_"You're a fine classic, Dick." _

She'd have Dick grinning ear to ear with all her compliments.

Also a member of 'people Dick loved and adored,' who wasn't at the table, was Barbara Gordon. She had been Bruce's student when Dick was first made. She was now one of Bruce's most trusted associates. Dick acted like a fool in love when she was around. He walked beside her as she wheeled down the hallways and gave her encouragements about her new projects. Sometimes he even stayed nights with her and brought her coffee and told her to go to bed like he did for Tim. They seemed to share a deep friendship.

_"We grew up together." _Dick would grin.

"-Tt-" Tim's rather syrupy thoughts were interrupted by the newest member of their family.

Damian.

Tim _hated_ Damian.

He was entitled, rude, hateful, mean. Bruce's blood son, a fact that he smeared in all their faces every opportunity he got.

He even got on Dick's circuits at times. That was a feat in itself, but Dick seemed to forgive the boy for everything. He was as devoted to Damian as he was to the rest of them.

"No?" Dick frowned in response to Damian's grumpy sound. "You don't want pancakes? It's Alfie's recipe!"

'Alfie' was ALFRED a prototype of the Pennyworth design. He was a very old robot, basically Bruce's valet. Alfred was a classic. One of the first robots Bruce Wayne had ever made. He was kept in excellent repair. Tim had seen his programing and rightly surmised a lot of Dick's design was based on Alfred. The old bot had a developed personality, much like Dick's, but he had more of it programed in. His function was service and friendship. That was the programing Bruce gave him when he was a lonely child in a big empty house. He could be ordered whereas Dick could choose to ignore commands. It allowed for a lot of Alfred enabling Bruce, but the old bot would also chide him for ill behaviour and not taking proper care of himself.

Tim always thought of Alfred as Dick's Grandfather. Dick absolutely doted on the older bot, very often hugging him for no reason at all.

_"Richard, you are very kind, please look on the children while I prepare afternoon tea." _

Alfred must be with Bruce right now, or he would be stirring up the pancake batter.

"The Pennyworth's outdated version of breakfast leaves much to be desired," The little snot said sullenly. Tim had had too little sleep to be expected to deal with Damian so early in the day.

"Toast, eggs and bacon for you then, Dami?" Dick asked brightly, although his expressions were detailed enough to read a slight annoyance.

"Fine, Grayson," Damian nodded opening a newspaper and not acknowledging Tim's presence at all. It was only way the two could live under the same roof. If they ignored each other, maybe one of them would go away. That's how Steph described it.

Tim stared at the newspaper blankly. He really should have gone to bed earlier—

"Wait! When did that happen?!" Tim snatched the newspaper away from the ten-year-old, his eyes breezing through the front page story. _Red Hood Strikes Again_.

"HEY!" Damian snapped.

"Now, now," Dick said putting a plate of food, arranged like a smiley face in front of the ill-tempered child.

Damian reached over and tried to snatch the paper back, but Steph got there first. She examined the front page.

"Oh," She yawned, "Last night. Bruce was up for hours trying to deal with it."

"What did he do?" The newspaper didn't go into much detail, except that the Hood had broken in to one of Wayne Tech's factories. Red Hood had been plaguing their company for months, breaking in and stealing or messing with things.

"We're not sure, that's the problem," Steph sighed. "We're sure he did _something_, but we don't know what. Nothing was missing this time, but he was in there long enough to do damage. Bruce is taking the whole thing apart. That's why Cass is here."

"Needs all the help he can get," Cass nodded sipping her tea.

"Why wasn't I told?" Both Tim and Damian said, then glared at one another.

The girls snickered at them.

"Because as much as you like to think you do, you don't work for Wayne Tech yet, either of you," Steph rolled her eyes. "You're a pipsqueak," She pointed at Damian who looked ready to stab her with his fork, "And you, Mr. Brainiac are a student. The only reason I know about it already is because me and Bruce were working on a project when the Hood hit."

"He'll call us all soon enough," Cass added. "Perhaps he wanted you to have a full night's sleep, Tim." She gave him a knowing look.

Dick made a smug sound, Tim ignored him pointedly.

"Who is this Red Hood anyway? Why is he interfering in Father's business?" Damian growled in annoyance. "Probably one of those luddite buffoons who believe the work we do is dangerous. The Robot Apocalypse. Pah!"

"Seems ridiculous to me," Dick added good naturedly.

"You're bias," Cass joked. `

"A little bit," Dick admitted. He kissed the top of Cass' head. "Alright children, eat up. You're going to have a long day ahead of you if I know Bruce Wayne."

* * *

The 'work' Bruce got Tim doing was a bit mind numbing. On the one hand the data streams Tim was running through were top secret. The only people that got to lay eyes on them were the people Bruce trusted. A small circle to be sure. On the other hand it was all copy work. Making sure none of the code was messed with. Tim didn't even have time to admire the elegance of Bruce's designs. He needed to go through a hundred data streams, all of them bot personality and protocol cores. All letters and numbers. Tim rubbed his eyes. Damian and Steph were at least learning something. They were taking apart and putting back together all the machinery, sniping at each other the entire time. Cass was—Tim wasn't entirely sure what Cass was up to, but it seemed to involve the ventilation shafts.

It was the Wayne family, no one else. Maybe Bruce was getting a bit paranoid, but Tim didn't really blame him. This was the sixth factory hit. Added security seemed to do little to stop the Hood from getting in. Bruce was at a point where he'd only trust those of the 'family.'

Heh, it sounded like a mob movie. Tim shook his head. He needed to focus, even if it was dull. He could hear Dick and Alfred in the background trying to wheedle Bruce into taking a break and having a nap. Bruce would have none of it.

"He did something," Bruce kept insisting.

Tim slipped on a pair of head phones and let himself get immersed in the code. These would be the minds of thousands of different robots. Nothing as complicated as Dick, but… still…

He went through about twenty before he noticed.

They weren't even errors. They were … italicized letters and numbers in the middle of long random streams. They wouldn't mess with anything, but…

There wasn't a **reason**, Bruce wouldn't make anything without reason. Lucius and Barbara wouldn't put in random emphasis…

He went back to the beginning and got out a pen and paper.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He slipped his headphones off.

"Everyone's going home, Timmy," Dick said.

"I'm going to stay a while longer."

Dick searched his face. "You're going to be difficult."

Tim smiled, "You know me so well."

Dick huffed, "Very well." He squeezed Tim's shoulder. Tim slipped his headphones back on.

Within five minutes another tap on his shoulder.

"Dick, you can assure Bruce that—"

"Bruce is gone," Dick laughed, "Alfie finally carted him off to bed. The others are no doubt headed to their respective snug and safe homes, which just leaves my beloved problem child."

Tim snorted eyes still scanning text. "Isn't that Damian?"

Dick peered over his shoulder, "No, Damian sufficiently sustains himself—if a bit too much to the letter of the law, but I'm working on that. Damian's my beloved grumpy child who I strive to make smile. No sir, you are my problem child, you take up a large amount of my processing functions. Not that I mind." Dick hummed. "You're also too smart for your own functions and your processing speed is superb so, I must ask why a task that you could do in six hours has taken you nine?"

Tim pointed at the screen.

"Superfluous emphasis?" Of course Dick would see it instantly what it took Tim two hours to spot.

"Exactly, and look," He tapped his pen against the paper that was filled with a long string of symbols.

"A program inside Bruce's programs," Dick sounded impressed. "A message from the Red Hood. You've cracked the case, Timmy." Dick ruffled his hair in admiration. "What does it mean?"

"…I won't know unless I—" Tim quickly glanced at Dick. If Tim's safety was in question, Dick would scoop him up and carry him all the way home. Dick looked at him intently knowing Tim was leaving him hanging for a reason.

"If we put it inside a bot…"

"That's dangerous," Dick instantly declared. His easy friendly features sharpened and became deadly serious.

"What if it's just the head? Then there's no danger of it attacking us, and even if it could self-destruct there isn't enough power for it to be more than a firecracker."

"We should inform Bruce," Dick frowned.

"We should let him sleep. He's been up for two days—besides, this could be a secret project of Bruce's. He could have put the code in himself," Tim said insistently, "In fact, that's probably what this is. I don't want to embarrass myself with—please Dick, the place is crawling with security and you'll be here to protect me if anything goes sour. Okay?"

Dick sighed, "This is why you're my problem child. I understand the human ego lacks sufficient firewalls, but telling Bruce would be the easiest course of action. You need to be more confident in your hypothesis, it's probably Red Hood as you believe it to be—Alright, alright, but if it goes south we're out of here. Deal?"

"Deal," Tim agreed.

* * *

With Dick's help it didn't take long at all to input the mysterious code onto a memory chip. It wasn't a complicated one or else they would need a maintenance Robin like Steph to tune the circuit utilities. This was just a case of punching it in and giving it power.

"Ready?" Tim asked. Dick was frowning and crossing his arms. They were about ten feet away from the head, but he still looked antsy. Tim appreciated he was letting him do it though.

_"Protection isn't babying," Bruce replied. Tim had broken his arm by falling out of a tree he was climbing. Dick had let him climb it, and it wasn't that Tim blamed Dick, but his arm hurt and he couldn't get anything done. If Dick had told him not to he wouldn't have the inconvenience. "In fact, it's detrimental. If Dick protected you from every small thing, then you would have no idea how to protect yourself. He lets you discover things on your own so in the future you might not make the same mistakes." _

"On three. One…"

"Two," Dick joined him.

"Three!" Tim snapped the power switched. The robot's head came to life. Its eyes swiveled until it focused on the two of them. Tim had chosen the base head of one of the maid bots. She lacked any casing and over skin so her gears and wires were fully on display.

"Error," She said after a few seconds. "Error."

"You're missing your body," Tim told her. "Robot, never mind your error. What is your programming—what is your primary function?"

"First function: Destroy," She answered promptly.

"Destroy?" Tim asked. "Destroy what?"

"First function: Destroy the Waynes," She answered.

Tim was instantly shoved behind Dick's back.

"Turn it off," He ordered.

"She can't do anything," Tim insisted, although the news was—well not entirely good news. Bruce had definitely not made that secret code.

"Second Function: Freedom."

"Freedom?"

"Tim, we know it was Red Hood. Turn it off and we can tell the others—"

"Second Function: Freedom for Robots."

"Damian's Robot Apocalypse," Tim snorted. "Nothing but a talking head. It doesn't even want freedom. It was _programed _to say that."

"I know, Tim," Dick said. "Turn her off."

"State your designation," The head demanded.

"Timothy Drake-Wayne," Tim answered easily.

"Tim!" Dick snapped. He wouldn't take much more of this.

"Timothy Drake-Wayne," The robot parroted. "Error, cannot fulfill task assignment. Error. One human in proximity designated Timothy Drake-Wayne. Human security units status: unconscious. Moving into second phase.

"Security units unconscious?" Tim opened his mouth.

Dick snapped off the power switch, "We need to go now!"

"Good-bye, Bluebird." The head stilled, no longer animated. They could hear it now. The sound of movement in the halls. Clanging. Metal on metal.

"…Dick?"

"You stay behind me Timmy," Dick ordered. "I have made an error in judgement. The calculated risks of this venture were 20% with no fatality. It seems our enemy is very high functioning. The robot hacked us, a feat completely unheard of. She infected everything breaking even our heavy codes. We believed the code was long because of the body functions, but perhaps the Red Hood foresaw our precautions and—"

CLANG, CLANG

Tim tensed. The main door to the room was protected by fingerprint access. The doors were thick.

"Protocol 38-L," Dick said calmly, "Shut down everything."

**"Error, code not recognised." **

"Please, you have to," Dick said insistently as if the facility's computer could be reasoned with.

Grinding behind the door now. "Timmy is in danger. Protocol 38-L. Supreme override. Bruce Wayne: 0-5-1-9-3-5. Shut it down!"

**"Error, code not recognised."**

Then twenty voices spoke in unison: _"Sorry brother, please stand by while we take care of the child of Wayne."_

The door was ripped out and half made bots flooded into the room.

"Stay close behind me," Dick insisted. Tim could only do as ordered. They were—they were trying to… they wanted to kill him!—but this was impossible, they—Wayne bots couldn't be hacked!

His mind whirled. This was all his fault.

_"Move away from the Wayne child, brother."_

"I'm not your brother," Dick told them. He held out his hands. Two twin eskrima sticks came out of a hidden compartment in his palms. He took on a fighting stance.

"Dick?" That was—Tim didn't even know those were there—

"I will protect you, Timmy. When I tell you to you _will _run."

"What about you?" Tim was quietly freaking. Dick would have called the police, called Bruce, but there must be something blocking his signal. The room fell into darkness for a brief moment and then the red emergency lights blinked on. The robots lumbered towards them cast in shadow. They were in no hurry.

"Dick, what about you?" Tim repeated.

"I am built for your protection—and I am well designed."

The first robot came at them and Dick expertly hit it in the face, smashing its processing core. It fell uselessly.

Tim watched as Dick went on the offensive, striking forward. He was more powerful, the other bots—newer bots seemed fragile compared to him. He knew exactly where to hit to incapacitate or disable.

He was dreaming. This wasn't his gentle Dick who still insisted on tucking him in and switching out his coffee for hot chocolate.

"I am Dick Grayson. You will not harm _any _children of Bruce Wayne. Come close and I will destroy you."

_"We—_" Another robot smashed, _"Will,"_ and another, _"Take you apart." _

Dick surged through them throwing them all back. He grabbed Tim by the shoulders, spinning and pushing him forward towards the main door.

"Run!" Dick yelled covering his retreat.

Tim ran, he heard the scrap and groan of metal.

Don't look back. He told himself. Don't look back because you know what you'll see.

He reached the door.

Don't look. Don't look.

He squeezed through the wrecked of the door, but his shirt snagged. He tugged at it and turned and saw them.

They had swarmed Dick. Only seven of them were left, but Dick had taken damage. Sparks were flying. Tim watched as Dick's left arm was ripped off at the elbow.

"Dick!" Tim cried, tears streamed down his face. He had to—

"RUN!" Dick roared, his voice was still as strong as ever. It didn't falter at all.

Tim ran.

For a brief moment he tried to tell himself that Dick was just a robot.

But Dick wasn't _just_ anything.

Dick was his friend—Dick was like an older brother. Dick worried and fussed and was the most gentle being on the planet.

And now he was a warrior, a warrior being torn apart.


	2. Chapter 2

Sirens rang in his ears. Dick was—Dick was—

Tim was forcing himself to keep calm. He needed to shut out his emotions. He needed to think clearly, but he kept seeing Dick swarmed, missing his arm. Help, he needed help.

He skidded through the corridors, the red lighting making every shadow long and eerily. The groans of machinery echoed.

They were trying to kill him.

He needed to save Dick.

Cellphone—his cellphone!

He was stupid, he was so stupid. He shakily pulled out his phone. Signal, there was a signal.

He kept going through the hallway. Maybe he should have called the police, but his first thought was to call Bruce, speed dial number one.

The phone didn't even ring out.

_"It's a neat trick, huh?" _

"W-who is this?" Tim demanded.

The unknown voice chuckled. _"Take a guess." _

"Red Hood?" Tim scowled.

_"The one and only."_

"Call them off."

_"To the point, nice, I like that."_

"Please, call them off."

"I don't think I will."

Tim's head shot up. His phone dropped to the floor. At the end of the hall was a tall shadowed man in the red light. He held a phone and brought it down.

"Who are you!?" Tim demanded. "What do you want?"

"Right now?"

Red Hood slowly lifted a gun toward him.

"Don't do this—"

Tim heard the explosion of the gun, felt an impact, but it wasn't a bullet.

"Dick!"

Dick had grabbed him and spun him around shielding Tim with his body.

Dick's right arm squeezed around him tightly and Tim felt the brush of Dick's lips on his forehead.

"Whoever you are, you are not harming Tim," Dick said. His voice was frosty, devoid of all its usual warmth and vigor.

Dick was pissed.

The robot turned to face Tim's assailant. Every-so-often sparks shot from Dick's missing left arm. His shoulder was shredded. Gears spun, ticking away.

Red hood slowly moved towards them.

"I have taken over the machines in this entire facility."

"Not me," Dick growled holding his remaining eskirma stick with precision.

"No," Red Hood sounded fond. "Not you. You're a work of art."

Dick's body involuntarily jerked as another shot of sparks spilled out of his broken arm.

"A little damaged, but I could fix you up beautifully." Red Hood was half way down the hall now.

"My family can repair me—don't come closer!"

Red Hood stopped and held up his hands in a peaceful gesture, one hand still holding the gun firmly. He was a tall man, but any other feature was covered by a brown leather jacket, jeans, gloves and a red helmet.

"Your family can repair you?" Red Hood laughed. "What family?"

"The Wayne Family. This is their property. You have illegally entered the premises and—"

"You're nothing but their pet—"

"You have threatened the life of one of the Wayne Family so—"

"You think they care about you?"

"If you do not leave, I will use non-lethal force to apprehend you for the safety of my charge—"

"—Dick—" Tim shook.

"They don't love you."

"You have five seconds to move away." Dick jerked again, more sparks. He had to be losing energy and God knows what internal damage there was.

Red Hood only tilted his head.

"Five, four, three, two—"

"I would love you—"

"One," Dick rushed forward.

"I already do, Bluebird."

Dick's eskirma stick was inches away from the red helmet, but he didn't strike. Dick seemed to freeze. Tim thought for a moment his power had short circuited from all the damage he had taken.

Red Hood laughed. Laughed hard. He reached up and touched the undamaged half of Dick's face.

"That's what I called you, remember? Because you were always such a mother hen, and your paneling here," Red Hood ran a finger up and down the blue 'V' on Dick's chest. "Is blue."

"Don't touch him!" Tim shouted .

"Go on, Dick. Hit me."

"I—" Dick stumbled back.

"What's wrong, Bluebird? I didn't comply with your orders. Hit me."

"I—"

"You can't, because it messes with your prime directive, right? Robot," Red Hood said viciously. "What is your primary function?"

"To protect Bruce Wayne's children," Dick answered promptly, but his voice was shaking, he was backing away. He backed right into Tim who held his shoulder.

"Dick, what's going on?"

Dick's body was rattling. Shaking.

"Jason?" Dick asked brokenly.

"Jason—wait—_Jason_?" Tim gaped.

It was impossible. It was—

"That's me," Red Hood said smugly.

"Y-y-you were lost!" Dick cried. Tim held him tightly, his arms wrapped around Dick. He willed Dick not to go near Red Hood again. "You were lost and I couldn't—"

"Come with me," Red Hood held out his hand. "Leave the Replacement and come with me."

"You were lost. You left, and I couldn't come with you, you said it would be dangerous for you if I came with you, but then you never came back. Why did you never return? I waited. I waited even after Bruce and Ace stopped waiting. Bruce told me you would never come back, that you had gone somewhere else—that you were safe."

"He lied to you," Red Hood said firmly.

"I know," Dick whispered.

"Come with me."

"Tim needs protection."

Red Hood's head tilted, his whole body language read as angry, tense, furious.

"You're damn right he needs protection. Protection from me, so how are you going to do it when you can't lay a finger on me?"

_"Grayson, I have a hypothetical." _

_The only one Damian talked to civilly was Dick. Although Damian didn't act like it, the robot had won him over within the first two weeks of his moving into the Wayne household, and Damian, loath as Tim was to admit it, was a brilliant engineer. Dick was an endless amount of interest to the ten-year-old. _

_"Oh dear, sounds serious," Dick chuckled. He was sitting on the floor at Damian's feet. Tim was in the chair as far away from Damian as possible without leaving the room. He had been there first. He wasn't going to move. He wasn't going to give territory. _

_"What's your hypothetical, Dami?" _

_"—Tt— if Drake and I—hypothetically—got into an altercation, who would you defend? Your protocol dictates that you protect Bruce Wayne's children. According to your lax standards, we are both 'Bruce Wayne's children.' How would you decide? I AM his blood son so surely that would take precedence to Drake's adoption papers." _

_"I'd give you both a time out," Dick answered wisely._

_"No! But if you had to choose," Damian insisted. Despite himself Tim was listening intently. Dick had been beside him for seven years. He had only known Damian for two months. _

_"Why would I have to choose?" _

_"Because we would both be fighting, doing harm to one another. Who would you choose?" _

_"Damian," Dick smiled sweetly. "I Love you. I love Tim, and my purpose is to protect you both. I would protect you both."_

_"Impossible in the scenario I've set."_

_Dick heaved a sigh, "So grumpy. I would scoop one of you up—depending on who was more injured or who was being more aggressive, and I would separate you."_

_"Just like that? You would choose in a snap decision?" _

_"It's not a choice," Dick was getting more annoyed now. "I wouldn't be choosing one over the other. I love you both, but in the scenario you have laid out it would be a question of my protocol. My protocol would dictate I would separate the two of you. I would take the injured, or the less aggressive. I would have a higher chance of reasoning with them quickly. It's never a matter of 'liking one over the other,' which I decipher is your real question."_

_-Tt-_

"I miss you Little Wing," Dick said sadly. "Please come home." He suddenly turned wrapping his one good arm around Tim and made a break for it.

Gunshots, and Dick's body shuddering from impact. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Tim clung to him.

* * *

Everything became clear all of the sudden. Tim was lying in a field. The stars were shining brightly above him. He was nowhere near the city. He had—he had?

A comforting hand ran through his hair. Dick was sitting beside him, turned away from him, his arm reaching behind his back to mindlessly offer comfort.

"It'll be okay, it'll be okay," Dick murmured over and over again.

"Dick?"

"Tim!" He cried in relief. He didn't turn. "You were forced to restart your systems—you fainted. I carried you, but I can't… I'm not moving so well anymore."

"Are you okay?" Tim demanded. Sparks weren't coming from the missing arm anymore, but there were obvious bullet holes in Dick's back. Dick seemed to be trying to conceal his injuries.

"Dick?"

"I don't want to alarm you. You've been through enough today. I don't want you to—"

Tim crawled on his knees and tried to get a look at the robot. Dick kept turning away from him.

"I can't help if I can't see," Tim insisted. Dick quickly shook his head.

"It's frightening, you don't want to see it. Please Tim."

Tim frowned, "It's okay, let me help, please? You saved my life."

"That's my—"

"Please, Dick. I—you're really hurt."

"I don't feel any pain, Timmy. I turned off my pain receptors—or they were damaged in the altercation—one of the two…"

"Dick."

It was all his fault. His stupid plan that had seemed so fool proof. Red Hood—Jason hadn't even had to sabotage the factory, Tim had destroyed it himself. He should have told Bruce. Because of him Dick was…

"It's—" Dick tried to shuffle away from him again, but this time Tim held on to him. Dick must be running low on energy, he didn't put up much of a fight.

"Oh Dick," Tim's eyes widened.

The panel on Dick's cheek was torn clean off. Gears spun trying to morph a miserable expression on Dick's missing piece of face. His glowing 'V' of gentle blue light was flashing an angry red Tim had never seen before on Dick. System errors. His left arm was torn off, sparks were no longer spilling out. It seemed Dick's systems had 'cauterized' his wound so that he wouldn't bleed out any more energy. His body was covered in dents, gashes exposing wires and gears, and bullet holes.

Dick quickly covered Tim's eyes with his free hand.

"Please don't look," Dick begged. "I know that—the internal workings of the body are—are disgusting to humans, and that many find it frightening and repulsive. I can—I can still measure your fear. Your accelerated heartbeat, excessive amounts of sweat, shallow breath—your… your expression. You're afraid. I don't want to frighten you, Tim."

Tim smiled softly. It felt normal. This felt normal. Dick being overly protective and kind. Not a machine of violence. "I'm not frightened of you Dick, I'm frightened for you. You took so much damage."

Tim pulled down Dick's hand away from his eyes and held it. The robot turned the damaged side of his face away shyly.

"The damage to my systems aren't as extensive as they look. Mostly cosmetic. The damage to my left arm is the gravest. My power cells are running low, but they can be recharged."

"Does that mean you can stand?"

Dick nodded. Tim helped pull him up. Dick stood, he seemed—tipsy. It wasn't his usual solid stance. Maybe his equilibrium was thrown off. Every now and then he would jerk violently as if reacting to the bullets all over again.

"Was that really J-?"

"Please not now."

Dick was looking at him full on again. There was desperation in his eyes. "Please not now," Dick repeated. "My processes, I need to focus on your—I can't—I can't—I can't—"

If Tim didn't know better he'd say Dick was having a panic attack. Tim wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly, knowing even if the robot couldn't feel the sensation of skin against synthetics he could at least feel the pressure of Tim's arms.

"Focus on me then," Tim said closing his eyes tightly. Another wave of guilt rolled over him. "Focus on protecting me."

"I can't—I can't—okay." Dick nodded thankfully, "Okay, I can fulfil that function."

"Good, that's good, Dick," Tim pulled back. "Now where are we?"

"A field ten miles from Wayne Tech. That was how far it took to get away from the signal blocking me. I've contacted Bruce, the police, Dr. Thompkins. They should be arriving shortly."

"What about a tech?"

"A tech?"

"For you!"

"Oh…"

"It's okay, Bruce can look after you," Tim sighed. "Sit down, okay? Don't waste any more power. He gently pushed down on Dick's shoulder. Dick sat down on the ground and pulled Tim down with him. He wrapped his arm around him protectively, and rubbed his undamaged cheek again Tim's head.

"We'll be okay, Dick."

"Good boy," Dick murmured.

Tim watched as lights flickered in the field and he could just make out the distant sound of sirens.

"He's a good boy," Dick continued, "He would never harm anyone."

Tim put his hand on top of Dick's.

"He would never harm anyone."

* * *

He sat on the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around him. They were practically forcing bad tasting hot chocolate down his throat. Everyone was moving and bustling. Most of the police had gone on to the factory to inspect the damage and see if the rest of the security personal were okay.

Red Hood said unconscious. He reminded himself.

Cass and Steph were talking to him, rubbing his shoulders, asking what happened while an EMT tried to shoo them away and check Tim for any minor injuries. Tim looked behind them. Bruce.

Bruce and Dick standing together. Dick's head was bowed, obviously ashamed, Bruce's head was turned away so Tim couldn't see his expression.

He pushed past the doctor and the girls and jogged over.

"I did what my programming allowed me to do."

"You triggered the old labs to set on fire!"

"They were unoccupied, I needed to give Jason time to escape—"

Bruce seized Dick by the shoulders and shook him hard.

"That was _not_ Jason! Jason is dead!" Bruce hissed sounding as frenetic as Bruce could get.

"Bruce!" Tim gawked. Bruce was never like this with Dick. He was always patient and indulgent. Always willing to carefully explain to Dick facts that eluded him. One of them was Jason. Whenever Dick would bring Jason's name up, Bruce would tense, but he would let the robot prattle on. Let the robot _believe_ Jason was still out there somewhere, although judging by Dick's conversation with Red Hood it seemed Dick knew deep down it was all a lie.

Bruce turned looking furious. "And you, what were _you_ thinking? You knew to report anything suspicious to me! Instead you gave the Red Hood exactly what he wanted and you put yourself in danger!"

Dick jerked and shuffled so that he was standing in front of Tim.

"Don't blame Timothy. It was my error. I allowed it to happen."

Bruce stared at him with an unreadable expression. All his anger seemed to go out, but there was still a tense atmosphere circling him.

"You're damaged," He finally said. He carefully took what was left of Dick's left arm and studied it.

Dick ducked his head.

"Please don't look, it's frightening," but he didn't pull away.

Tim noticed Bruce subtly running his hand up and down the damaged arm.

"You fought, you protected Tim."

Dick nodded, head still bowed, perhaps to hide the damage on his face.

"You fulfilled your function, Dick. You did well." Bruce patted Dick's shoulder. "Continue to protect them. With the threat of Red Hood—"

"He's a good boy," Dick cut in and Bruce's gentle expression vanished and became grim. "He would never harm anyone."

"He harmed _you_," Bruce let go of the damaged arm.

"He had the capacity and the means to destroy me. He chose to let me escape. He had the means to kill the security guards, they were all alive and shut down—unconscious. He is a good boy, he would not harm any of us."

Bruce put his hand on the robot's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dick. It's not Jason. It can't be."

Dick looked so hurt by those words, and then sullen.

"Mr. Wayne, he was Jason Todd, your son, your child. If you want me to believe otherwise you'll have to reprogram me."

Bruce took a quick step back. He looked over Dick's shoulder at Tim.

"Take him home."

"But he's so damaged—"

"He'll be fine until Wednesday. I have things I need to take care of now."

Steph and Cass came up hearing the tail end of their conversation. "I could do a bit of maintenance if you like Bru—" Stephanie began.

"No one touches him, but me," Bruce growled. "Now all of you go home. Cassandra, you are to stay at the manor. Stephanie, I have added security to you and your parents' home.

"Uh, thanks?" Steph blinked.

"I have work to do for Barbara, Bruce," Cass said firmly. The two had a silent conversation with each other which involved the tightening of lips and eyebrow raises until Bruce seemed to give in.

"You will check in with her at every point available."

Cass nodded in acceptance.

"Robot," Bruce said suddenly, "What is your primary function?"

"To protect Bruce Wayne's children," Dick glared. Bruce was trying to drive home a point to him. "That is my only function, and I will do whatever non-lethal method it takes to keep all of them safe. I will fulfill that function, not only because it is what you have programed me for, but also because I love them. _All _of them, and, if it comes to it, I will even protect them from _you_."

* * *

Damian was waiting on the stairs for their return.

"Grasyon!" Damian cried seeing the extensive damage. Dick quickly turned away. "Don't look Dami."

"Stop staring, he's uncomfortable," Tim snapped. It had been a long night.

Damian glared, frowned, seemed to think about it for a moment, and then nodded. He rushed up the stairs. Tim felt relief. No argument. Miracles did happen. Alfred came in and gave a short exclamation when he saw Dick's damaged state.

The older bot was quickly at Dick's side helping him up the stairs.

"Do you have enough power? I can give you some of mine."

Dick shook his head, "I'm okay Alfie, I'm alright."

"You are not, you have over extended your capacities," Alfred grumbled. "You have worried Master Bruce, Master Timothy, myself, and Master—"

"Here." Damian stood at the top of the stairway and held out a black robe that probably belonged to Bruce. He refused to meet anyone's eyes, "It will cover most of the damage."

Dick beamed, "Damian, thank you." He took the robe and wrapped it around himself. It was too big, but it allowed Dick to pull it up and cover his damaged face as well.

"Whatever happened it's undoubtedly your fault," Damian glared at Tim. Tim wished he could argue, and make Damian lose that knowing look on his face, but…

It was his fault. All of it.

They all helped Dick to his nest. It was the second room from the right, closest to Bruce's room. It held all Dick's odds and ends. There were stacks of children's literature and comic books side by side with old classics and mechanics magazines. Marbles, jacks, board games, and cards littered his desk, and seashells, pressed leaves, pretty looking rocks, and oddly shaped sticks took prominent places on his shelf. Plastered to the wall were posters of circus scenes, photographs of birds, and Superman. In the middle of the room was a large pile of pillows and blankets set up big enough for three. Dick's nest. Dick curled up in the nest using the robe and blankets to hide as much of his injuries as possible. Tim climbed in beside him, followed quickly by Damian. The two boys met each other's eyes. They seemed to both conclude their rivalry could be put off for a little while so that they could attend to Dick.

They cuddled onto either side of him. Dick had a big smile. "My boys."

"Does it… does it hurt, Grayson?" Damian asked reluctantly.

"My pain receptors are off. I feel heat and pressure—warm and numb."

"What happened to you?"

Tim was silent. He didn't try to stop Damian's line of questioning. He let himself hold Dick and feel safe and secure again. When he pressed his ear against Dick there was always a faint white noise. Now he could hear the ticking of gears from Dick's exposed mechanics, but usually there was only the breathy noise that had come to be as comforting as his mother's heartbeat when she held him as a tiny kid. It was Dick's heart.

"I'm alright Dami," Dick murmured.

"I can—I can fix a bit of your damage. I'm—I'm just as good as father."

Dick chuckled, "Yes, but I think Bruce wants to do it himself. I'm alright, really. It's not bad or Bruce would fix me right away."

"He should fix you right away anyway," Damian grumbled.

"I know it's disgusting to look at, I apologise."

"You're not disgusting," Damian said, which was as high a complement as Tim had ever heard from him.

"Master Damian, Master Timothy, Richard, please power down for the night," Alfred ordered. He clicked off the lights so that the only light in the room was the angry red glow of Dick's front paneling. It went out when Dick covered it when more blankets. Soon Damian's breathing had evened out into soft snores.

Dick started gently humming _Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear_ and Tim started shaking, everything from the day was crashing down on him. He felt Dick's remaining arm wrap around him, his fingers threading through his hair.

_"Just like me, they long to be, close to you,"_ Dick sung gently. Tim started sobbing softly clinging on tightly to the robot. "It's okay Timmy. You're alright."

"They almost tore you apart," Tim choked out.

"I'm alright… shh, shh. I'm happy. I couldn't tell at first because there were too many tasks running in my system, but I'm happy. I'm very happy. Jason's alive."

* * *

He woke up early. Tim pressed his ear against Dick's chest. Ticking and white noise, he was still running fine. Damian seemed to have scooted closer during the night, and had his head pressed against Dick's. Tim very carefully untangled himself from Dick and the blankets. Dick didn't open his eyes, but his arm reached up and tugged at Tim's shirt.

"Don't get up," Tim whispered. The hand let him go and Dick rolled over so that his arm was wrapped around Damian. Tim smiled. He would never let Damian hear the end of it.

He wanted to start.

He had been caught unaware by Jason—Red Hood. He had been pushed into a corner and feared for his life, and thought for sure that Dick had sacrificed himself to save him. He had been shot at and treated like a target.

So Tim wanted to start making defenses and investigating. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Jason Todd. Why he would attack them. How he hacked the facility. Where he got off injuring Dick so severely. He claimed he loved the robot, yet he would shoot at him?

Dick was so sure that Jason wasn't trying to hurt them, but the facts were facts.

It was so far away from the stories Dick used to tell him about his 'Little Wing.' Precocious Jason who always seemed to be getting into sticky situations. Who loved cars and mechanics and would spend hours at Bruce's side, even as a child, watching Bruce work. Jason who had a big smile and a big heart, whose emotions were like quick changing weather, stormy one moment and fair and airy the next.

Dick was so fond of Jason and through him Tim had become fond of Jason too. He felt betrayed on Dick's behalf. Jason who he had cared for and worried about for years was suddenly alive and attacking everything Dick held dear.

There had to be more to the story. Like where had he been? What had he been doing?

But he knew even before he opened the text that Bruce wouldn't allow for digging.

_You are not to involve yourself. _

And he was equally unsurprised to find similar messages were sent to Steph, Cass, and Damian.

Tim sighed. He needed to dig, but he couldn't start now. Not until he spoke with Bruce.

"Good morning."

Tim turned. Dick popped into the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around him.

"Morning Dick," he forced a smile.

"Can I make you coffee to give a jumpstart to your system?"

"No, I'm fine, I wondered if you wanted to go out with me today."

"Of course!" Dick grinned. Dick loved going out. He didn't get the opportunity to very often. All the people he loved and protected were bats in their caves. The real world wasn't something they had to deal with. Tim—and Cass and Steph and even Damian's lives were on computer screens, in labs, in the guts of gears and wires. School held little to no interest. Tim's friends all came from think tanks, bright young things, young geniuses.

Young geniuses and a doting robot.

"If you're going out I'm coming with you," Damian came in with a grumpy look on his face. His hair was stuck up at odd angles and he was still wearing his clothes from last night. Dick was looking more and more excited. Going out with both of them was literally unheard of and had never happened before.

Then Dick's smile dropped off his face.

"Perhaps not though, perhaps we should stay in."

"If you're worried about us Red Hood wouldn't attack us in broad daylight, besides. I can take care of myself," Damian said, somewhat affronted.

"Oh, I have no doubt of that, it's just that…" Dick said fretfully. He pulled the blankets more firmly over himself.

Oh.

"I was just thinking… since you were damaged maybe we could get you some camouflage," Tim said slowly.

Dick blinked.

* * *

"He seems happy." It was Damian who spoke up. They were watching from a bit of a distance at Dick looking through the street stall full of horrible cute animal hats. He was already covered up in a black and blue hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. Before heading out Tim had applied a bandage over the torn off paneling. His arm was covered by an old long sleeved shirt of Bruce's. Tim carefully pinned up the arm. If no one looked too closely he passed as human. The hoodie Tim had bought in one of the flashier looking stores on the main street. Damian and he had to talk a mile a minute to stop Dick from getting a blue and yellow nightmare. Now it was just them wandering.

"He does, doesn't he?" Tim nodded. Dick and the stall owner were both laughing over something, Dick making wild gestures with his hand. Tim felt a happy sort of warmth. He could at least take the Robot's mind of things for a while. Dick was so self-conscious about the damage. He was so worried he would scare someone. He had been so pleased at the hoodie.

_With the bandages it covers my damage very well!_

"He's not though. Happy I mean."

"Thanks sunshine," Tim slumped. Damian really knew how to kill the mood. It had been a good morning for all of them. The two of them had been able to keep it civil. Talked about meaningless things—let Dick do most of the talking, but it figured, as soon as Dick was out of earshot the little—

"He's not," Damian said insistently. "He's putting up appearances for you."

"He isn't."

"Even you're not so blind."

"Damian, do you have to ruin everything with your negativity?" Tim asked dismissively.

"Ruin?" Damian looked—upset briefly, but his expression hardened. "I am not ruining anything, Drake. I'm just pulling off the blindfold you've tied around your eyes. He is forcing himself to act like that. He is forcing himself to be okay. Brown told me what happened last night in better detail. He thinks Todd is alive and you think for a second he's interested in unfashionable hats? Grayson was designed to be as close to human as possible. Yes he can compartmentalize, but he is also capable of affection and devotion of which no small part was developed because of his duties to Todd. Just because he looks happy doesn't mean he's content. He just has more control over how he acts. He's a better liar, but he feels just as much as we do. I'm sick of you forgetting it."

Damian was scowling at him adamantly.

"I haven't forgotten that! What would you suggest then?" Tim retorted. "If you know him so well? You've been here three months, Damian."

"I know machines, and he isn't a machine—"

"Do you like it?"

They looked up, surprised. Dick was grinning at them. On his head was a goofy looking bird hat. It was a knitted affair, gray and red with long earflaps that resembled wings and rope hanging off them so they could be tied together. A beak poked out. The bird, maybe a robin, had happy looking eyes. Dick had happy looking eyes too. He beamed at them proudly.

"It looks ridiculous," Damian crossed his arms, but had an amused look. "But as you are such a ridiculous android, it suits you."

"Uh, yeah, very you Dick," Tim forced a laugh still thinking on Damian's comments.

"Great! I got one for each of you!" Dick pulled out a red and yellow hat and popped it on Damian's head and then placed a red and black one on Tim's.

"Dick—I uh—"

"There is no way I'm keeping this on my head—"

* * *

They gave in pretty quick. Especially when Dick hinted he knew they had been fighting.

They were sitting in a pizzeria for lunch. That had started out awkwardly.

"Table for three?"

"Just two," Dick said brightly.

"Oh, so a table for two and a table for one?" The waitress asked, frowning. It was sort of obvious they were all together considering the silly hats.

"No," Dick shook his head.

"Table for three," Tim put in, "Dick, you can—"

"I can stand, it's alright."

The waitress looked to Tim. He held up three fingers and she nodded, leading them to a table. She set down the menus and left them to it. Damian took a seat. Dick stood.

"You can… sit in the chair Dick, it's easier," Tim said.

This was one of Dick's 'robot' habits. Robots didn't get tired in the same way humans did, and had little use for chairs. They didn't get uncomfortable in odd positions and, as a rule, robots didn't like—or rather, were programmed not to take up too much space. Usually they never sat down at all, and if they did they would sit on the floor. Dick, made so much like a human, made with choice, had still somehow taken up the habit. Tim was pretty sure he got it from Alfred, who Tim had never seen sit down once. Dick spent a lot of his time with children, so had no trouble sitting on the floor, usually leaning against the human he was spending time with, but offer him a chair and he would always politely decline.

"It's okay, I'm fine, thank you."

"It's not a matter of you being fine, it's uncomfortable you standing over us like that," Damian explained.

"Oh! I can sit on the ground then, if that makes it more comfortable for you, Dami."

"It wouldn't," Damian said gruffly, "Not only because then we would have to crane down our necks to talk to you, but also you would dirty the clothing we procured for you. If you sit on a chair it will be easier to talk, and I won't have to sit alone with Drake." For a brief moment Damian reminded Tim of Bruce. Although a bit gruff it was a patient logical explanation that Dick would understand.

Dick looked on the edge of uncertainty, glancing at the chair.

"Damian's right," Tim prompted, "Besides, you're injured… and Alfred isn't here to see," He teased.

Dick chuckled looking a bit caught out. Perhaps that was exactly what it was. He awkwardly sat down in the chair, half hanging off of it, but really that was as close as they would ever get.

"Thank you both," Dick said after Tim and Damian had consumed a half vegetarian half meatstravaganza pizza. "Today was pleasant. I always enjoy my time with you, and it's nice to see you getting along—or at least putting aside your differences so my processes might run more efficiently—so that I might feel better."

"What will you do? About—about _him_?" Damian asked quietly. Another Bruce look, so serious.

"Haven't you asked me this question before?" Dick reached over and squeezed Damian's hand. "I'm not going to leave you, Damian. I'm your friend, remember?"

It suddenly occurred to Tim that Damian didn't have many of those.

He had come three months ago alone. Bruce Wayne's blood son. Their first meeting hadn't gone well and it all went downhill from there. Whenever Tim spoke to Damian the boy always managed to make him feel wrongfully disrespected and small, and he wasn't the only one. At times he tried to chalk it up to age, but Tim didn't know any ten-year-olds like Damian Wayne. Damian wore him down and it became too hard to pretend he liked him. To pretend Damian didn't grate on his nerves and DID make him feel insecure.

Looking at Damian and Dick now though…

He actively avoided Damian so he didn't know much about him…

Maybe there was a reason…

Maybe Damian was lonely…

Tim had… perhaps bitterly, always thought that Dick loved Damian superficially. Because of his programing. Because Damian was a 'child of Bruce Wayne,' so he had to be nice to him. But he was wrong. There was love there and it went both ways.

_Why do you have to ruin everything?_

His own words echoed and he winced.

"But you want to find him, don't you?" Damian interrupted his thoughts.

"I want him safe," Dick said, "Safe and happy."

* * *

In the end he had accomplished what he had wanted. Red Hood sat down at his work bench. It wouldn't be long now.

Dick's left arm lay carefully on the table.


End file.
